He tied her in knots with a string of tales.
Flew her like a kite, jerking the lead,
back and forth in tormenting winds.
Strung her along, tethered to rocky shoals,
until his nots became a strangle hold.
Every Tuesday, Misky posts a Twiglet: a short phrase, a word; to prompt a thought, a flow, a memory. Twiglet #11 is the phrase “with a string.” Art from Wikiart: Nude Young Woman by Giorgione, 1508.
I am your global child.
Barefoot puddle splasher
hand outstretched, ghostly smile,
sunken-eyed innocence.
I live in your cities.
Under bridges, in alleyways
on your streets.
Blessed are those . . .
which those?
See me. Hear me.
Offer me
a morsel of hope.
Quadrille (44 words, not including title) for dVerse where Kim asks us to use the word or a form of the word “ghost.” DVerse, (the virtual pub for poets) opens with today’s prompt at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!
First grader. Never mulled
no twists, just straight up.
Shaken on the playground,
meets bully spirits with bravado.
Some day, she’ll pass the bar.
And she’ll be the one.
We’ll toast her as she takes the oath.
Hail to the Chief.
Posted for dVerse Tuesday Poetics where De asks us to “mix it up a bit” by using terms having to do with the bar / pub scene, drinking terms. IE in Predilection’s case: mulled, twist, straight up, shaken (not stirred), spirits, bar, and toast. The trick is, the poem cannot be about the drinking scene! A fun prompt. Hail to the Chief is the music played at the inauguration after the presidential oath is taken, and thereafter when the President of the United States is introduced. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop on over and imbibe some words!
My Namrah, fantastical beast,
is always waiting near.
When fear accompanies darkness,
I know he will be here.
He flies me to the shining stars,
appears within my dreams.
Lifts me up on widespread wings
and soars through sequined streams.
Frank is our guest host at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, and asks us to write a poem in common meter. This is one of the most difficult types of poetry for me to master. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time.
We are immersed.
Polar night
darkness unseamed.
Evil dawns as sun does not.
Erodes hope,
essence of democracy.
Revels in abysmal decrees
hurled again and again,
narcissistic plague.
Scepter spews clues
to personality disorder,
alternative reality.
We know however,
the midnight sun
shall rise.
Quadrille (poem consisting of exactly 44 words – not including title) posted for dVerse, virtual pub for poets. Today Björn asks us to use the word “dawn.” Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us! Photo from 2015 Alaska cruise.
Hear the guttural call
a loon in the midst of porous fog.
Tall ships tack ‘gainst angry waves
sails unfurled defying blowhard wind.
Sturdy spruce dig in, roots entangled,
stand valiantly in permafrost.
Voices merge, rise from depths,
like dawning sun they swell.
Their magnitude undeniable,
push their way
gain strength and energy,
overcome darkened skies
You cannot dim her torch
it shines her promise for the many.
Those who passed her by in awe
eyes raised, hearts knowing
hope lives and shall
forevermore.
Some exhale fresh air
with every breath.
Others spew pollution
from every pore.
Some sow smiles
like Johnny planted trees.
Others hurl thunderbolts
of anger and fear.
Some believe in we
live in the our.
Others tout two,
us versus them.
Some stand tall
no matter their stature.
Others think small
no matter their height.
Some people hope
as they pray for the others.
Willing the others
compassion for all.
Shared with dVerse OLN today….the virtual pub for poets. Everyone is invited to share one poem of their choosing. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join the fun! Photo in public domain.
My eyes cannot see my face
and yet, in this room
this darkened place,
I see me in your love
your soft whisper breath
your fingertips across my skin.
You are my looking glass
image me into our dreams
light my heart, my soul,
light stars within my eyes
explode my senses,
nova me this night.
And then, as passions fade,
we shall sleep entwined
until the morrow’s dawn.
I’m hosting Poetics at dVerse today – that wonderful virtual pub for poets. I’m asking folks to write a poem that includes a unique verbification – a noun or adjective used as a verb. Think Google — originally a proper noun, the name of a company. People started to say “google that” and through repetition, it became a verb. How about “ganache me” — wouldn’t that be delectable? My post, One Night, verbifies nova – a star that suddenly flares and then fades slowly. Come join us at dVerse to read and enjoy; and maybe, also, to post your own verbification! Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Photo: in public domain.
wave after wave,
battered vulnerable shore.
Split assunder
droplets splayed like angry spittle,
fury unleashed.
Photos taken in Bermuda.
slipping from here to there,
drifting toward sleep
my hand reaches for yours.
Fearful still,
I will not let you cross alone
this darkening nocturnal bridge.
Fingers interweave. I wait. I listen.
Soft even breaths become my evensong
and I succumb to dreams.
Hosting the dVerse virtual pub for poets today. I’m asking folks to write a poem that contains the word “bridge.” So many possibilities! Come join us – bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.
lillian the home poet 